


three, the offerings to the dead

by unicyclehippo



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, beau dies but she gets better, im talking AFFECTION, im talking CARE, im talking everyone loves beau time, im talking offerings for the ritual, its a resurrection fic baby!, you know what that means
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24850225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicyclehippo/pseuds/unicyclehippo
Summary: One - a diamond. Costly enough to bribe the attention of a god.Two - minutes that passed. Too long.Three - the offerings to the dead and departed.Or, Beau dies in the fight and no one can get to her in time. The Mighty Nein won't let her go without a fight.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 22
Kudos: 273





	three, the offerings to the dead

There should be sound. The call of gulls. The slap of waves. Yelling. There should be _yelling_. There is nothing but pressure squeezing down on her lungs, her skull, and an distant high-pitched ringing in her ears as she stares at the body as it is brought up onto deck, as Caduceus tries to revive it, as water pools around the body. It’s the blood that truly frightens her. The blood doesn’t flow or pump out of her, it needs a heartbeat for that. It seeps, drawn out to stain the water, stain the deck that terrible red. There is nothing quite so viscerally _wrong_ as seeing blood spilled, the sign, the proof of hurt. There is _nothing_ quite so viscerally wrong as seeing Beau’s blood spilled, except seeing no movement from her at all.

‘—will smudge the chalk if we leave her there. Get her up on these crates – gently now, take her legs. And – there you are, Veth, hold her head – ’

‘Heavy.’

‘Yeah, well, she’s got a hard head,’ Fjord joked. It fell flat, of course, but Veth sent him a strained smile and nodded. ‘Got her? Count of three we lift – one, two – ‘

She hung like a dead weight in their arms, awkward, unhelping.

_Move_ , Jester willed.

They lifted her, grunting. Her booted heel dropped hard onto the wood with a knock, the rest of her body following more gently.

‘There she goes.’

‘That’s it. Thank you, Fjord, Veth.’

One of her hands hung limp over the side of the crate. Reddened water dripped from her fingers, tapping onto the deck. _Tap ta-tap tap._

_Move_ , Jester demanded.

Caduceus stooped to take the hand. He rested it gently onto the crate alongside her.

‘What else do you need? What can we do?’

‘Crystals, salt, I’ll need to burn incense, something to make ash, chalk – ’

‘I have most of those,’ Caleb interrupted, scooping handfuls of his precious components forward, setting them in front of him. Cad thanked him with a fleeting press on his shoulder but didn’t stop rattling off instructions to the others.

‘ – a bowl of fresh water, something growing – ‘

‘Fresh water!’ Fjord barked, and sent someone running.

‘ – and something important, something natural. Anything that would draw the attention of the Wildmother.’

‘How about the eye from a dragon turtle? It is…a little punctured,’ apologised Yasha, ‘but it is here. And very large. Is that… important?’

‘I think that would do very nicely, Miss Yasha. Very fitting. Set it here, thank you.’

The eye was as large as Beau’s head when it was set beside her. Caduceus was quick to move it into his shield, using it as a bowl, so that the liquids—the blood and ichor and the clear fluid that seeped from the punctured organ—didn’t wash out and over the symbols and runes that Caduceus had already quickly managed to scrawl into the wood of the crates. There was a clatter of materials as Veth upturned her bag, emptying buttons and pearls and crystals and jewels and coins onto the deck; her quick fingers sorted through the lot of them, passing on a chunk of rock-dusted crystal, melted glass, a fragment of lightning-shot bark and petrified wood, pressing them into Caduceus’s hands.

‘Will these help?’

‘They can’t hurt. By her head as well, thank you, Veth.’

_Move_ , Jester begged.

In the activity of Caduceus’s work—pacing circles around the crates, the scratch and scrawl and stop of chalk on wood—the ringing returned. It was a high-pitched whine that hurt Jester’s ears, that built and built into a persistent agony she couldn’t block out with hands pressed to her ears, or teeth clenched, or even drowning it out with the sound of her friends’ voices. It was so much alike to nothing other than the way the whole world screamed at the explosion of a fireball, the split-second shriek as reality tore through itself when Fjord summoned forth a demon, but it would. Not. Stop. 

The world was breaking, had broken.

Beau was dead.

The circle Caduceus laid out was simple. It was a beacon, a target. Three rings of salt, and ash, and crushed chalk surrounded her, outlined her body where it had been laid out on the makeshift bed of crate and barrel and rigging. The blue of her vestments had been tugged into place as her shroud. Mixing chalk into blood and water, Caduceus painted with that paste a joined sign upon Beau’s forehead, the jagged open eye of the Knowing Mistress, and his own Mother’s crook. Lifting her head an inch, he touched a dot of the red paste onto the topmost point of her tattoo where it disappeared into her hair. He lowered her head gently back down onto the crate. Brushed tender fingers over her hair, smoothing a wayward wisp. His fingers shook.

‘This is not an easy thing,’ he warned them. Caduceus’s serene expression, already marred by the line of a frown, dug into a deep furrow. He stopped. Breathed out a long, low sound as he considered his words and the work before him. ‘This is not the same as reviving Fjord. The soul is – Beau’s soul has left her body. We must call her back. It is not easy. It _must_ be worth the price of intervention. The soul _must_ have reason to return.’

‘How?’ Caleb asked, voice hoarse. He was bloodied too, arm hanging limp at his side from when he had been tossed to the deck mid-fight. Beneath the grime of sea-spray and gore, his face was pale and set. ‘What do we do?’

‘I will maintain the ritual. Caleb, there is a diamond in my bag. I need that.’

With a curt nod, Caleb strode to the doors and below deck.

Caduceus moved his attention then to the rest of them. To Fjord, standing at his and Beau’s side. To Yasha and Veth standing close by. And to Jester, who hadn’t moved.

‘Have you done this before, Cad?’

Caduceus shook his head. His eyes flicked over the signs and symbols, searching for any error. ‘The Grove is for burials. Sometimes for healing but never – we do not intercede on nature’s course.’

‘But you can. This time?’

‘It is not her time,’ he said, and for all his caution with the ritual itself, those words he spoke with no hesitation. No doubt.

‘Okay. Okay. How does it – work?’

‘The diamond will supply the power, the price for this. It will buy the attention we need. And that is my contribution to this. But someone else should make their offering as well.’

‘Anything,’ Fjord agreed. He knelt by the low crates and took Beau’s hand in his. ‘What do we give? Blood? Magic? Gold? They can have anything I’ve got—’

‘Not like that, Fjord. This offering isn’t for the gods. Like I said – the diamond will pay that price. It will give us the moment we need to…call to her. Convince her to return.’

‘That’s all it’ll take then, isn’t it?’ Fjord grinned, a flash of white tusk at the corners of his lips. ‘Beau’s a scrappy piece of work, all she needs is a direction and she’ll sprint right back.’

Caduceus tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. ‘Will she?’

‘Of course!’

‘Well…’

‘Of _course_ she will, Veth! What the fuck are you trying to say?‘

‘She’s been in a rough place for a while now,’ Veth argued, even as she held her hands up in surrender. ‘I think Caduceus is right, I think she needs to be convinced.’

‘Beau _loves_ us.’

Veth glared across at Fjord. Met his eyes solidly. Whatever she saw in them, she softened a fraction, though her tone was still forceful. ‘This isn’t about that. She isn’t her brain right now – she’s dead! Caduceus _just said_ – this is a soul that either wants to move on or return, right?’

‘Right.’

‘And with the way her life has been, I’m not sure what the balance is there! I don’t know that it wants to keep – that it _wants_ to come back. That she does. You saw the way her dad spoke to her, the way she was with us for _weeks_ after we met! She’s been alone for _ever_. She thinks she’s done all she was here to do. We need to offer something so that she can even _hear_ us when we tell her that that’s a load of crap and we want her here.’

‘Something she’ll like. Something that says we know who she is,’ Yasha added.

Caduceus nodded. He set a gentle hand—stained red—onto Fjord’s sleeve. ‘Beau loves you,’ he said, first to Fjord and then included them all with a look that swept across the ship. ‘Let her hear the same. Call her home.’

Overhead, the sails cracked as their crew let them out, let them fill, pulling ropes taut to catch the wind and continue their journey west toward land. Sea-spray blasted the deck with cold ocean water and salt that stung at open wounds.

Caleb returned and set the diamond with careful hands onto Beau’s chest.

As he straightened, he swept his fingers over the swell of her cheek, purpling with bruising.

‘Hallo, Beauregard,’ he whispered. ‘Hold on, _Schwester_.’

‘Thank you, Caleb.’ Caduceus’s voice was warm and steady. ‘Let’s begin.’

Regarding her for a moment, Caduceus took his place not at Beau’s head but at her feet. He reached into his own bag and sprinkled out a packet of leaves—pungent, minty—and began to speak his prayer. The incantation of the ritual, an entreatment to be heard, slipped from Common to Sylvan to the rumbling gravel tone of Giant and their kin. Fragments of what he said made sense. Fragments of what he said found their way to Jester’s ears, past the ringing, past the pressure, that filled her mind. There was a gravity to what he said that echoed of years of practice, of spoken study, years of speaking over the bodies of heroes that had fallen, and even so there were sections in which his voice shook.

It was one thing to bear witness to grief and to help ease it. It was quite another to be drowning in it and trying to keep not only his own head above water, but also everyone else. To bring the hope and the light in what looked a very dismal moment.

‘Wildmother. Can you hear me?’

He paused, eyes half-lidded as though deep in thought.

‘Cad, we don’t have time for –‘

‘Shh.’

Fjord bit his tongue. His attention switched quickly, lingering on Caduceus a moment before switching back to Beau. Finally, he forced himself to settle as his fingers clutched tight to the symbol of the Wildmother on his breastplate. The metal dug into the soft of his fingers.

‘Wildmother, one of your children has fallen today. You know her. I’ve spoken of her often.’

The sails cracked and the ship lurched, jumping forward with a sudden speed in the water. The wind blew hard into the canvas, but soft over the people gathered around the body laid out, and as the wind blew, the symbol Fjord held began to glow, as did the crystal in Caduceus’s staff, and the pink lichen that clung to his hair and the fur of his arms and to the carapace of his armour too began to gleam beneath the gloom of a clouded sky.

‘Ah.’ A sweet smile crossed Caduceus’s face. ‘Hey. Caduceus Clay here.’ The wind blew, pushing at his long hair that hung in wet strands about his face. ‘Her name is Beauregard. She is of the empire, a really incredible place. I saw your splendour in the land of her birth and I see that same splendour in her. She is one of yours, as are we all. And, if you wouldn’t mind, we’d like to talk to her if we could and call her back. She isn’t done yet.’ The wind that had settled as he spoke rose again. Caduceus bowed his head as though chastened. ‘ _We_ aren’t done with her yet,’ he amended.

For a long moment, they waited. Then, ever so faintly and growing stronger, came the scents of pungent flowers and crushed pine, mint and honeysuckle, moss and the warm-wood scent of life composting.

Caduceus opened his eyes.

‘Who would like to make the first offering?’

‘It’s – What…do we give?’

‘It could be anything. It doesn’t need to be an item, though that can sometimes help to anchor a person. It can be a memory, or a promise. It could be a song. Whatever you think Beau would appreciate.’

The wind had stopped. It had to still be blowing, because the ship still sailed, guided by the expert and concerned hands of Orly and his crew, but where the Mighty Nein gathered around Beau the wind didn’t shift so much as a hair on their heads. It hung, breathless and waiting, for the first of them to make their move.

‘Okay.’ Yasha breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. ‘I…don’t have a lot to give. I don’t have many things. At all. But…if it brings her back – ‘

‘Talk to her,’ Caduceus murmured. ‘She’s listening.’

Yasha’s eyes grew tight and worried under a frown. She clenched her hands at her side and then nodded, just once, a small hard nod and she stepped forward.

‘Beau. Hallo.’ She grimaced, looked up to Caduceus and the others gathered around.

‘Keep going,’ Caleb encouraged her. ‘You can do this.’

‘What if I –‘

He moved forward to her side. Careful not to look too long at Beau and their makeshift altar, he said to her, ‘You can do good, Yasha. You are not incapable of that. She knows that.’

‘She’s a good person.’

‘So. Tell her you think so.’ He hesitated a moment before patting her elbow. Giving an encouraging nod, he stepped back.

Yasha looked down to Beau.

‘Hallo,’ she said again. ‘Caduceus says you can hear us so… You are dead. Ah. In case you didn’t know that. And, ah, maybe I am not the right person to do this because I have hurt you very badly in the past. I am sorry for that. More sorry than…than words can really say. So, if I can, I would like to – I would like the chance to make that up to you some day.’ Around her shoulders and in the space behind her, a light began to build. With her attention fixed on Beau, Yasha didn’t seem to sense it. Instead, she was focused on the wound in front of her and the brilliant glow of her own hands as light flowed from her into flesh that knitted up in some small way.

‘I know I can’t…heal you a lot. But I hope that helps. Maybe…it will help guide you back to your body? I don’t know. I don’t know how these things – how these things work. Yah. I hope it helps.’ Next, she shrugged off her shawl. A faint blush crawled up her neck toward her ears, which turned pink. ‘This might be foolish,’ she said, voice very low, ‘but you asked for it once. I don’t want you to be cold. I am pretty sure you were just flirting but, you know, in case you are, ah, actually cold now. Because you are – dead.’

She lifted a hand to her face, shook her head.

‘You’re doing well, Yasha.’

‘I’m saying – very stupid things,’ she disagreed. ‘But – it’s fine. Yah. It’s fine. I just want to add – Beau, that you have been. Very kind to me when I did not deserve it and I don’t think you see how – how much you mean. To us. So please come back,’ she finished hurriedly, nodding to Caduceus to say she was done.

He smiled. ‘That was very nice, Yasha. Who will go next?’

‘How –‘ Fjord cleared his throat. ‘How many?’

‘Three is customary. Any more and the message gets confused.’

‘Three.’ Fjord nodded. He glanced toward Jester—who could only _stare_ at – at the body, could only stare—and gave her a moments grace to interrupt. When she didn’t – she _couldn’t,_ it wasn’t right, it wasn’t real – he, who had not moved from kneeling at Beau’s side, reached up. With a nervous look toward Caduceus, careful not to break this ritual, not to ruin it, Fjord took her hand. It was a clumsy hold at first, for the first three deep breathes he took to steady himself, each of them growing less and less steady. Then he fell into it, elbows cracking down onto the crates, shoulders slumping. Both of his hands enveloped one of Beau’s ever so gently and he pressed his forehead to them.

‘What do I say?’ he asked. ‘Wildmother… Do I give her something?’

‘You could.’ Caduceus’s tone was even, so careful not to direct the ritual.

‘Cad! Just – _tell me_. You know how this magic works! Tell me _please_. How do we bring her back?’

‘Speak to her. Anything you think will call her home. I find it is best to speak from your heart to hers.’

‘From the heart,’ Fjord echoed. ‘Okay. Yeah.’ He sat back on his heels and adjusted his hold to something more casual. Clasped her hand as he had once held Caleb’s, bonding themselves in blood beneath the waters. He didn’t spill his blood this time; instead, he took a moment to search for words. The truest ones he could conjure. Beyond anything else, Fjord knew that Beau appreciates truth. And beyond anything else, Fjord knew then without the shadow of doubt or pride, Fjord appreciates Beau. _Loves_ Beau.

‘Okay,’ he said again. ‘You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. The best friend I’ve ever had. Hell – you’re the best person I’ve met, full stop. I can say stuff like…how you saved my life when we fought the Laughing Hand – how you ran back in there for _me_. I mean, you were out, you were _safe_ , and you ran back in for me. I’m never gonna stop thinking about that. I don’t know if I ever really told you…how _much_ that meant. I should’ve. Until that moment, I don’t think I knew that we were really a family? That you would save me. I thought – I thought I was worth exactly as much as my powers. Nothing more. But I was runnin’ on fuckin’ empty and you came back. For me. And I just – when I didn’t have powers, I was the most scared I’ve ever been in my life. I know you get that. I know you do. I was terrified you were gonna leave me because I was just…normal. A half-orc – not very strong, not very smart. No sword, no magic, no nothing. And I know you understood because you picked me up and you pushed me right back down again and you helped me train and for, like, three days I was living in your world, living _your_ life, and – I dunno if I said this, Beau, but you go fuckin’ _hard_. That’s an in _tense_ training regime.’ He allowed himself a laugh. A moment passed and the smile faded. He stared down at his friend and continued.

‘You’re the bravest person I know. You don’t have magic. Or super special weapons to make you powerful. You’ve done that for your own self. You took everything the world threw at you and you rose above it. You got stronger, faster, learned more, travelled the world. But – for as long as I’ve known you and I think probably a good bit longer than that, you’ve always been _good_. Even if you do kinda have a mean face while you’re doin’ it. No one – no one can really teach that shit. How to be a good person. How to stand up to people. How to stand up _for_ people. And, uh, getting to be by your side this whole time has been… Fuck.’ He cleared his throat. Dragged in a breath, enough to carry the final words out into the open. ‘It’s everything. Come back, please. Come home to us? This family won’t be the same without you. _I_ won’t be the same without you.’

Fjord stood then. Squeezed her hand very gently.

‘Love you, Beau,’ he whispered, voice hoarse, and then he too nodded to Caduceus.

‘Thank you, Fjord. Will anyone offer a third?’

Jester’s ears rang. Her hands hurt, holding so tightly to her symbol. Her chest hurt, holding so tightly to a breath she didn’t dare loose. Her whole body hurt, and there was a hot tearing sensation in her chest that grew sharper and hotter and more agonising with every minute that went by and Beau didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t stir, didn’t say her name.

‘Jessie?’ Veth asked, hesitantly.

Jester’s eyes snapped up from Beau to Veth, her new face crumpled into a worried expression.

‘I – ‘

‘She needs a third,’ Veth prompted.

Jester opened her mouth. Nothing came out around the lump in her throat, the pressure that closed like a fist. She closed her mouth sharply, teeth clacking. The sound rattled around in her skull. The high-pitched whine of the world collapsing in on itself persisted.

‘Okay,’ Veth said gently, and she turned away from Jester and stepped up toward Beau. ‘Hi, Beau. Fjord said pretty much everything very nicely. You’re brave and good and very smart – not as smart as Caleb, but –‘

‘Veth. Now is perhaps not the time.’

The comment made Veth smile, a small mischievous smile that sat well on the halflings face, though so very different from the jagged-tooth grin they were all used to. The eyes – though a different colour – were largely the same. Now, of course, behind the mischief was a stalwart determination. And grief. Veth nodded.

‘Whatever you say, Caleb.’ In a loud whisper, she added, ‘See, Beau? So smart. And so good with people.’

Across from her, Fjord snorted. Shook his head.

‘I have a lot to thank you for, Beau. Running with me away from a manticore almost as soon as we met. That was wild. Pulling me out of lava, that’s a big one. Giving me wine? I’ll never forget it.’ Her jovial tone slipped and a moment’s pause stretched into several moments as Veth stared down at Beau. And stared, and stared. She cleared her throat. ‘Can you hear me, Beau?’

There was no answer.

Veth sniffled. ‘Thank you,’ she continued, voice quavering, ‘for offering what you did to the hag. Even though it for _sure_ probably had a lot to do with your own issues, I still…I thought it was terribly brave. I _still_ think it was terribly brave. And it meant a lot to me that you would do that for me. I know I haven’t always been the kindest – I definitely shot you with a gun that one time…and with my crossbow that other time…but I don’t think I’m wrong in thinking that we _get_ each other in some way. Chaos crew forever, and all that. Sharing secrets. Picking locks and breaking into places together? Remember when we both nearly died in that carpet? Good times…’ Veth fiddled with the necklace around her neck, and the series of bangles on her wrists. They clacked and slid around her wrist under her fingers in a way that visibly settled her. She took another breath and pushed on. ‘Thank you,’ she said again. ‘For confronting your family for me. Because that _was_ for me, I know that, and I appreciate it. Thank you for being our protector and, more importantly, my friend. But like I said, Fjord said most of that stuff already so… I don’t know if this will do anything, but…’

From her wrist, Veth removed the jade bracelet that Beau had given her so many months before. She set it onto Beau’s belly. Watched it rest there, no rise and fall of natural breath.

‘I know you don’t have the best relationship with your father – because he’s a real dick – but if there’s the smallest chance he was right about jade protecting you…I’ll take that chance.’

With a final lingering look and a pat to her hand, Veth stepped back.

All three offerings made, Caduceus retook his place at Beau’s feet.

‘Wildmother,’ he prayed again quietly to the wind and the sea and the earth and the metal tang of blood, all of it natural and wild and Hers. ‘I know the rest is up to you, and to Beau and her goddess, but… perhaps you can’t see into the hearts of the others, not being dedicated to you, but you can see my heart,’ he said in a low rumble. ‘I love her. She is a _good_ woman. I implore you. Please – please guide her home.’

As he spoke, the wind rose.

The diamond shone, and shook, and shattered.

Diamond dust, shining with the sea-green gleam of life and wilderness and the Wildmother’s magic, scattered across Beau. It clung to her, did not settle anywhere that she was not. And as it surrounded her, the wind moved as well. It plucked at her hair, already loose from its bun from the fight. It plucked at the shroud, her vestments. It swept over her, not an inch of Beau escaping its scouring attention, and as the force of it grew and the light of the diamond dust became blinding, burning their eyes, forcing them to squint and lift a hand to block it out—as the light reached its brightest point, it looked for a moment as though Beau were actually suspended an inch or two above the crates where she had been laid.

As quickly as the wind had risen, it fell away again.

Beau lay on the crates, still. The diamond dust no longer shone.

The call went up from Orly to his crew, pitched as it was to not disturb them. The winds had gone—they were still in the water until they returned.

‘Why – ’ Jester cleared her throat as her voice cracked on the word. Forced her question out through a closed throat. ‘Why isn’t she breathing? Why isn’t it working?’

Caduceus’s fingers clenched tight around the withered staff. He shook his head slowly, eyes not shifting from Beau. ‘I don’t – ’

‘What happened? _Caduceus_?’

‘I don’t know. The Wildmother… Nature gives and takes and – ’

‘It doesn’t get to take _Beau_!’

‘You didn’t even say anything!’ Veth snapped.

Jester whipped her attention to Veth eagerly, spitting ice-cold in her direction. ‘What am I supposed to _say_? I’ll miss you if we aren’t _roommates_ anymore? That’s not going to bring her back to life!’

Fjord lifted his hands. ‘Now, Jester, it’s alright. We can still fix this.’

‘There’s no fixing this, Fjord! Beau is _gone_ , she’s _dead_. She isn’t coming back! We drove her away – she was _hurting_ and no one _spoke_ to her and she would rather _die_ and _leave us_ than stay! That’s it! That’s all there is – all there is to it. She doesn’t _want_ to come back.’ At some point in the last half hour as the ritual had begun, Jester had started to cry and she was crying now as she yelled at Fjord, at Veth, but they didn’t stop her. The tears flowed in hot paths down her cheeks.

‘I told her,’ Jester said quietly. She swallowed down the thick feeling of misery building in the back of her throat. ‘I told her if she laid down her life for us that I would – I’d try and heal her.’ Her expression crumpled, collapsing into a fresh wave of tears. ‘And I didn’t! She’s gone and I didn’t h-heal her, I didn’t even t-try. I didn’t help, she _needed_ me, and I didn—I _couldn’t_ –‘

A small, warm hand took Jester’s. Through the tears, Jester could make out the familiar shape of Veth. She began to pull Jester forward; Jester took a halting step toward the crates before stopping.

‘No, I can’t, please don’t,’ she said. She couldn’t. She _couldn’t_. That was _Beau_ laying there but – it couldn’t be, it just couldn’t, because that would mean that Beau was really _dead_ , the whole ritual would mean that she was dead and _gone_ and that was –

The high-pitched whine picked up again and Jester planted her hands on her ears, shook Veth off to curl her fingers tight around her ears, press until all she could hear was the roar of her own pulse. Veth grabbed one hand and, not unkindly but unrelentingly, she pulled Jester’s hand from her ear.

‘You can,’ she told Jester firmly, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. ‘And you have to.’

She led Jester forward. Eyes squeezed shut, tears blinding her otherwise, Jester couldn’t see how far they walked. It felt like forever. Finally, her toe tapped against hollow wood and Jester knew that Beau was in front of her.

‘Say it now.’

Jester shook her head. ‘There’s no point. It’s _over.’_

‘You’ll regret it if you don’t,’ Fjord told her. His tone held nothing but gentle warmth. It washed over her like a wave, and Jester was drowning. Pressure in her ears, her lungs. Salt stinging her eyes, her lips. ‘Beau is stubborn, Jessie. Help her out.’

Jester sniffled. ‘She really is so stubborn,’ she said, and laughed.

Scrubbing at her cheeks, her nose, with a sleeve, Jester forced herself to look.

She had been brought to stand at Beau’s shoulder. Even as her heart kicked painfully at her ribcage, Jester’s hand reached out and she grazed her fingers over the cool metal of Beau’s headband. When her knees buckled and gave out at the feeling of cool flesh under her fingers, Veth caught her. Eased her down, helped her down to kneel there by Beau’s side.

‘Um.’ Jester laughed another soggy laugh. Sniffled. ‘ _So_ stubborn,’ she said again. ‘But. She always – she bought Nugget with me. And she always plays along with my _stupid_ ideas. She just – she only pretends to be stubborn, you know.’

Fjord stepped up to her side. He took Beau’s hand, and Jester’s, and he guided her to hold it.

Like it was made of glass, made of spun sugar, like it would dissolve under her touch, Jester did hold it. Jester sucked in a breath to calm herself enough to talk.

‘H-hi, Beau. I’m – oh no,’ she said, and the words were quiet and heavy with all of the grief she didn’t let fill her hands, refused to let change the way she held Beau’s hand. ‘I’m really gonna miss you if we aren’t roommates.’ Jester closed her eyes tight against the press of yet more hot tears. ‘I never sleep right if I can’t hear you snoring, you know? Thaumaturgy isn’t the same. And, um, until we get enough diamonds to try this again, me and the Traveller, we’ll cause _such_ a ruckus. I’ll send _so_ many messages to Zeenoth and to Dairon, and the rest of the Cobalt Soul. And the Traveller, he can talk to your goddess until she gives you back, really just pester the _shit_ out of her. And, um, I’ll just – we’ll move all the books around on the shelves in the library and turn all the ink pink. No – green – no. Definitely pink. And – and – ’

Jester fell silent. She stared down at Beau’s hand in both of her own. Let her fingers travel across Beau’s knuckles, finding each scar like lines on a familiar map. One hand drifted up to curl around Beau’s wrist, looping it gently, fingers settling into the sweet crook where wrist met the base of her hand, where her pulse ought to beat strong and steady.

‘I’m sorry. For not healing you. And for not talking in your ritual. But I – I _couldn’t_. Beau…It would mean you were actually – ’ Jester stopped yet again. She closed her eyes. A fresh wave of hot tears poured down her cheeks, try as she might to stop them. ‘And the _thought_ of that,’ she whispered.

Jester shook her head. The jingle of jewellery was noticeable in the utter still of a becalmed sea and the thick, pressing weight of sorrow’s silence as it hung over them all.

‘It hurts,’ Jester said. The silence ate up the words hungrily. ‘My whole body hurts, Beau. I think my heart is _breaking_ ,’ she said, and her voice cracked. She lifted Beau’s hand to her lips, kissed the knuckles. ‘Come home. I want you to come h-home. You promised me – you _promised_ me I wouldn’t have to look far for a friend, remember? But – Beau – can you hear me? You’ve gone too far and I – I need you here. _Please_. Please. Please.’

Beau’s thumb slid over the back of Jester’s hand, reassuring. Such a small movement. It took a moment for Jester to register it and, when she did, she jerked back, staring down at their hands.

Beau did it again. Soft. Gentle.

Lifting her eyes, Jester stared into open blue eyes. Clear as the blue sky, unclouded.

‘Jes,’ Beau sighed, like her name had been the last thing on her lips, had been what she was saving her last breath to say. She smiled a crooked smile. ‘Who made you cry?’

The clamour of joy, the press of her whole family as they swarmed her, swarmed them both, was so much. Too much, almost. Everyone pressing forward, grabbing at Beau, hugging her, talking, crying around and onto her. Too much, and not enough. And it was fine – so long as Jester didn’t have to let go of Beau’s hand. Beau suffered through it all, nodding into Fjord’s shoulder, patting Caleb’s, leaning into Caduceus as he poured yet more healing into her. She endured it all and then some—but each time a hug nearly pulled her away, her weak grip managed to tighten on Jester’s hand.

* * *

Beau hobbled down the steep stairs into the bunk quarters, a hand on Jester’s shoulder, who walked in front of her so she wouldn’t fall. Exhaustion took her, began to crawl into the edges of her vision black and reaching, as she swayed on her feet. She collapsed into the bunk.

‘Hold on, Beau.’

Beau groaned. ‘Lemme sleep.’

‘In a minute,’ Jester promised. She helped Beau to sit up, propping her against the upright beam of the bunk. ‘I’m just going to clean you up a little.’

Even through the haze of exhaustion, the thought sent a spark of fire through Beau’s veins. She felt it heat her cheeks and cleared her throat. ‘I’m – tired, Jes. I can wash up tomorrow. Promise.’

She blinked. The world went dark.

She opened her eyes and Jester was kneeling in front of her, fingers unwrapping the bindings from around her wrists, setting the mess beside her gauntlets on the dresser. A basin of water was at her side and it was cold when she dragged the cloth over Beau’s hands.

Beau hissed. Jester’s eyes darted up to her.

‘You’re awake.’

‘’m awake. I just – blinked.’

Jester smirked. ‘You were fully asleep, Beau.’

‘No.’

‘Mhm.’

‘Wasn’t.’

‘You were. You can sleep. I’m almost done. I’m just going to do your face – you don’t want to fall asleep with all this on you. It’s really gross.’

Beau nodded. Even in her state, blinks lasting long seconds, maybe even minutes, she could hear the strain in Jester’s voice. She didn’t give a single shit about whatever gross stuff Cad had slapped onto her; but Jester? Jester, who had to look at her? If she wanted to gone – if she _needed_ it gone – Beau wouldn’t put up a second more of fight.

Jester wore a pretty frown as she worked. Intent scrunched her brows together, pressed her lips flat. She was very close as she dragged the cloth over Beau’s forehead, fingers burning cold spots along Beau’s jaw as she tilted Beau’s head to make sure she had got it all.

‘You okay?’ Beau asked as Jester ducked aside, wringing out the red-stained cloth into the basin.

‘Mhm!’

‘You sure?’

‘Of course! I’m really glad you’re okay, Beau.’

Beau nodded. She _was_ okay, weirdly enough. The wound in her side had mostly healed up and, though all of her _ached_ like whatever they had done to bring her back involved tenderising her body with a giant mallet, she was for sure alive. It was fitting, she thought. That she go out bloody and be brought back bloody.

And with all her family around her.

That couldn’t be forgotten.

Jester dabbed her face dry with something Beau suspected was one of the discarded first attempts at a green traveller cloak. It took some effort, but Beau lifted a hand. Curled her fingers in a loose grip around Jester’s wrist.

‘Hey.’

Jester froze. Glanced down at the hold and then up at Beau, wide-eyed.

‘Thank you. Imma pass out now.’

She fell asleep with the sound of Jester’s laugh ringing in her ears.

* * *

It hadn’t been long enough. It hadn’t been nearly long enough and a pair of cold hands were on her face, on her shoulder, chilling her wrists.

‘- the fuck?’ she slurred, shaking off the hands. She blinked open a gritty eye but in the dark saw nothing but a horned shape above her. ‘Jes? Fuckin’ – you’re lucky I like you or I’d knock your fuckin’ head off. _What?_ ’

The candle by their bedside flared into light with a sulphurous tang. Jester sat beside her, on the edge of the bed, and stared down at Beau with wide eyes. Wild eyes.

‘Beau.’

Exhaustion stripped the soft edges from Beau. She grunted. ‘What?’ But it was Jester. So she grunted again. ‘Wassit?’

Jester dragged in a deep breath. Blinked a few times. ‘I – it’s nothing,’

‘It’s been not very fucking long since I went to sleep so,’ Beau dug deep into whatever reserves of energy she had and tried to glare at Jester. It felt like her eyes crossed with the effort. She suspected they did. ‘’fess up.’

Beau watched as Jester bit at her bottom lip. Worried it between sharp teeth.

‘I got scared,’ Jester admitted after a moment. She bowed her head like it was something to be ashamed of. ‘That you were still – that I had dreamed it.’

All of Beau was already aching but her heart gave an extra little thump for good measure. She beckoned Jester closer – beckoned again, with a tinge of annoyance, when Jester hesitated. She wrapped her arms around her best friend’s shoulders and without fanfare pulled her down so they were both laying in the uncomfortable, narrow bunk. With a little adjustment, Jester lay just right to hear the steady thump of Beau’s heart.

‘Hear that?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I’m alive.’ Beau yawned. Her brain her, her body hurt. She forced her eyes open, dragged her hand up and down Jester’s arm and let the surprise, the delight of that action set fire to her mind. Enough fuel to stay awake a little longer. ‘You brought me back. You did good.’

Jester went tense in her arms. She twisted, narrowly missing gouging Beau with a sharp horn; wriggling up the bed so she could look down at Beau, she hissed, ‘I’m not doubting that. I’m not scared that we _failed_.’

The candlelight was enough to see Jester, but not enough to make out details. Beau let her imagination place the freckles where they should be, blinked dazedly up into Jester’s face.

‘I’m scared that I _lost_ you,’ Jester whispered.

‘Is there a difference?’

Jester frowned down at her. Beau hugged her a little tighter. ‘Yes.’

Beau grunted. Whatever the difference was, it escaped her for now. ‘’kay. Can we sleep now?’

With a huff, Jester settled again. Rearranged herself to where she could hear Beau’s heart again. ‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘Beau?’

‘Mm.’

‘I love you.’

Beau lifted her hand to Jester’s back. Trailed over a shoulder, feeling for the faint bumps and ridges of the diamond-infused tattoo. ‘Love you too, Jes.’


End file.
